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I want to write about him.

I want to write about the way his eyes look like a brighter shade of blue,

While he’s hovering on top of me,

In a dark room.

I want to write about the way he looks at me from across the table when we’re playing pool.

I want to write about the eagerness in his face when I pull away from a kiss a little too early.

I want to write about the way he holds me when we lay on his couch.

I want to write about the way he kisses me from my lips to my thighs without me feeling uncomfortable.

I want to write about the little comments he makes when he is too scared to make a proper move.

I want to write about the way he approaches me,

And the hunger in his eyes.

I want to write about how he retrieves within himself when he is upset,

And I want to write about how all I want is for him to know I am here for him when he is upset.

I want to write about how uncomfortable silence is for him.

I want to write about how,

When he is looking into my eyes,

It is the only time the quietness is acceptable.

I want to write about how he told me he was going to miss me.

I want to write abut the butterflies he gives me,

The ones I thought turned into moths months ago.

I want to write about taste of his lips,

And how I never want to taste anything or anyone else’s ever.

I want to write about the first time he kissed me.

I want to write about the chills he sends down my spine,

When he grazes his fingers across my skin.

I want to write abut how he is the single thing I think about all day.

I want to write about the way his hands roam my body,

Like he’s never touched another human being before.

 

I want to write about all of these things.

and if I sat down,

and concentrated I could.

 

But I also want to write about how he gets excited to see me.

I want to write about how me makes stupid jokes just to see me smile.

I want to write about how he clears his schedule,

Because I only have a certain amount of time to see him.

I want to write about how he grabs my face when he kisses me,

Because he never wants to let go.

I want to write about the aggression in his voice when he tells me he loves me.

I want to write about all the sweet things he does for me,

To make sure I am happy.

 

But I can’t.

Because you don’t do those things.

When t comes to sex and us,

I can write for days.

But when it comes to you caring about me.

I really have to concentrate.

Because I really don’t think you do.